<!DOCTYPE html>
<html>
<head>
<meta charset="UTF-8">
<title>A Fiendish Tale by RabidSquid</title>
<style type="text/css">

body { background-color: #ffffff; }
.CI {
text-align:center;
margin-top:0px;
margin-bottom:0px;
padding:0px;
}
.center   {text-align: center;}
.cover    {text-align: center;}
.full     {width: 100%; }
.quarter  {width: 25%; }
.smcap    {font-variant: small-caps;}
.u        {text-decoration: underline;}
.bold     {font-weight: bold;}
</style>
</head>
<body>
<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23853691">A Fiendish Tale</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/RabidSquid/pseuds/RabidSquid'>RabidSquid</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Sly Cooper (Video Games)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Tragedy, Body Horror, Canon Compliant, Canonical Character Death, Cold War, Cybernetics, Dark Magic, F/M, Heavy Angst, Historical, Historical References, Magic, Medical Trauma, Pre-Canon, Psychological Trauma, Science Fiction, Soviet Union, Tragedy, Trauma, Voodoo</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-26</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-05-14</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-02 21:26:20</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>8,422</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23853691</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/RabidSquid/pseuds/RabidSquid</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>There is no price he wouldn't pay to have his revenge. Even if it meant rebuilding himself onto a truly wretched monster</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>10</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Arkhangelsk, U.S.S.R., 1961</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brightest_Moonstone/gifts">Brightest_Moonstone</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I blame Brightest_Moonstone and their beautiful fics and commendable dedication</p><p>I love the Sly Cooper games, I played them all the time as a kid. I had this idea kicking around in my brain for years, but it's only recently I finally put it into words</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Status report?"</p><p>"Red Navy ship inbound cap'n."</p><p>Raleigh gave a contemplative hum as he rubbed his chin. For now, his submarine was outside the range of the sonar on the Soviet destroyer that was approaching. While his contact assured him that there was nothing to fear, he was not looking forward to being arrested as a suspected spy in the U.S.S.R. of all places.</p><p>Taking a deep breath, the frog clapped his gloved hands together. "Alright mates, begin surfacing!"</p><p>The walruses aboard scurried about, the depth reading rapidly diminishing. It wasn't long before Raleigh felt the submarine becoming rocking more and more as it neared the surface, a walrus behind a console turning to face the frog as he held a headset. "Ship's hailin' us cap'n."</p><p>"Put them through." Raleigh ordered as he lifted his custom telephone from its cradle and put it to his earhole. A few switches flicked and he could hear a Russian voice on the other end of the line. Clearing his throat, the amphibian replied. "Voyenny korbal' Vladimirsky, eto kapitan vodovorota govoryashchiy."</p><p>The crew fell silent as the captain continued to speak with the Soviets, Raleigh nodding along. Moments later he hung up before approaching the hatch ladder and swiftly scaling it to exit the submarine. Hopping onto the deck, Raleigh watched the hawk that leapt off the destroyer that was nearing his submarine and land in front of the amphibian.</p><p>"You are captain?" The hawk had a thick Russian accent. The hammer and sickle armband he wore was visible in the evening sun, a golden glow cascading over the waves that lightly rocked the submarine.</p><p>"Indeed I am." The frog firmly replied. Plucking his top hat off, Raleigh reached inside for a neatly folded envelope and handed it to the hawk. "This is addressed to your captain."</p><p>Golden eyes squinted as the hawk accepted the letter. Tucking it into his coat, he leapt off the submarine and flew back to the destroyer. The thin film of slime that coated Raleigh's skin began to thicken, fingers drumming along the deck as he waited for a response. He had nothing to fear, this was not some ploy--</p><p>A Russian accented voice rumbled from the destroyer as it neared. "Submarine Maelstrom, we shall escort you to your destination. Any attempt to resist or deviate from your course and we shall respond with deadly force."</p><p>Raleigh released the breath he was holding before hopping back into the submarine. So far so good, he was looking forward to seeing who it was that invited him with their business proposal.</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>The night had settled in, a dim silver glow illuminating the rocky beach as an inflatable dignhy neared. The Soviet Marines were polite, but Raleigh noted how the bears kept a claw near the triggers of their guns. Reaching the shore, one of them gestured to the well worn path that led into the towering forest. "Koschei awaits."</p><p>Hopping his way through the dark forest, Raleigh reflected on the letter. The mystique and writing was enough to intrigue him, its offers of riches all too tempting to the pirate. However, he had learnt from the high seas that no gold came without struggle, the frog wary that this invitation was not specific about what kind of price was expected of him.</p><p>It wasn't long before Raleigh spotted the bunker, right where the letter said it would be. He was secretly glad he was told of this, he would easily overlook the moss-covered door if he didn't know to look for it. Bounding towards the steel door, the frog noticed the security camera that was focused on him.</p><p>"I am here, as you requested." Raleigh called out to the camera. Seconds later, there was a whirring and creak as the door opened on its own, a line of flickering lightbulbs running down the ceiling of the long hallway that led underground. Yellow eyes narrowed as Raleigh began following them, the door closing shut behind him.</p><p>At the end of the hall was another door, a small computer screen built into the wall next to it. Glowing green text began to appear on the black screen, drawing the frog's gaze. 'THIS DOOR CAN ONLY BE OPENED ONCE SUFFICIENTLY REPAIRED'</p><p>Turning his eyes to the door, Raleigh recognized the sophisticated locking system that was visible in the missing panels to the steel vault door. A sturdy piece of hardware for sure, but the frog snorted as he began tinkering away. Adjusting its components took little time, Raleigh opening the door with a satisfied smirk.</p><p>The next room was small, another computer screen built into the wall. An old propeller engine was seated atop a workbench, a red toolbox next to it. The black screen lit up with more text, this time it read 'REPAIR THIS ENGINE'.</p><p>As Raleigh began to work on the machine, he began contemplating his host's intentions. Publicly, Raleigh was a renowned pirate of the North Atlantic. However, the press failed to mention his fierce engineering mind, Raleigh smirking as he fine tuned the engine. He supposed word of his mechanical genius had circulated through word of mouth and it was looking like this mystery man was keenly interested in this talent.</p><p>Once the motor was fixed, Raleigh found himself passing through several more rooms, all of them full of all sorts of machines from sophisticated clocks to computer terminals and radios and eletrical transformers. Each piece of hardware he fixed opened another door, the process carrying on until the frog found himself in a room that only had a functional computer bank.</p><p>Hopping towards the screen, Raleigh saw another security camera like the ones that had traced his every step mounted to the computer. However, a voice crackled from its speakers, one that sent ice down Raleigh's spine. "I see your mechanical skills have not been exaggerated."</p><p>"I could have told you such in person." Raleigh remarked.</p><p>"Think of the past hour as a sort of test." The voice coldly replied. "You qualify for the task I have in mind, now we discuss business."</p><p>Making minute adjustments to his hat, Raleigh steeled his nerves as a large door hissed open. There was a clanking sound, the shrill screech of metal on stone making the frog flinch. A single scarlet eye glowed in the darkness, a large and powerfully built brown owl striding into the room. His mangled eye socket and singed plumage only accentuated the terror he radiated, the owl's beak chipped and scratched. But what made Raleigh swallow was the prosthetic legs on the owl; a pair of cruel and jagged metal legs that ended with bloodstained talons.</p><p>"...a-are you Koschei?" The frog asked.</p><p>The owl gave a rumbling chuckle. "The Russians know me as that. A rather fitting name, wouldn't you say?" There was only confusion from Raleigh, the bird tilting his head. "You have not heard the story have you?"</p><p>"I'm afraid I have not." Raleigh's slimy membrane thickened.</p><p>"Well, allow me to regale you..." The owl gave a haggard cough, making some of his feathers fall from his ruined body. "...Koshcei was said to have carved out his soul and hid it away in the world. Because of that, he could not die. Some say he hid it in an egg that he hid in a duck and then a hare that nests in a hollow log, others say it was in an egg in a box that was buried from the world." The owl gave another strained cough. "The Old Bolsheviks called me Koschei, same as the Tsars and the Boyars of Transylvania."</p><p>That got Raleigh's eyes to widen.</p><p>"I have survived a long time Walter, but the means to prolonging my life as before is no longer usable." The owl gestured to his haggard form. "Ten years ago I was nothing like this,  now time is beginning to catch up to me. But I cannot die yet, I have an old score to settle." With that, the bird retrieved a roll of blueprints and handed them to Raleigh.</p><p>Unfurling the schematics, the frog's eyes widened even more. "This...this is...this is beyond anything that science has ever achieved."</p><p>"I'm well aware." The owl snarled. "But I have defied nature before, this will be no different from the past."</p><p>Closing the blueprints, Raleigh began to realize why the owl sought him out. It also dawned on him that this was world-changing and if he refused to work for the owl, he'd probably end up forfeiting his own life. Then again, this was a project he could hardly refuse. It was the opportunity of a lifetime.</p><p>"I will provide you with the raw materials and technology. But in return, you are bound to silence on this project and the slightest leak of secrecy will come with dire consequences." The owl's good eye narrowed.</p><p>"...I only have one question." Raleigh held the blueprints out for the owl to take back. "Why go through this?"</p><p>"I am owed a steep debt. The only path to claim it is to defy death. And for that, I need to become more then what I already am." A baleful glint glimmered in that crimson eye. "I need to become a true monster and you will help me."</p><p>Raleigh could only smile, revealing rows of rotted yellow teeth. "With pleasure."</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>So, I heard from me siblings that Sly 1 was actually set in the late 80s/early 90s. I do not know if that's canon, but that is the timeline I'm using. Partly because it allows for some interesting historical events to affect these characters.</p><p>And also because this means the Cooper Gang grew up in the Disco age and the image of Sly in flared bell bottom pants is too epic to ignore XD</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Xinjiang, China, 1963</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It had been a long trek for him. He was far from his native lands to the East, the Kunlun range perhaps the only haven they had left. He wasn't exactly opposed to the revolution that overthrew the nobles all those years ago, but the new regime wasn't much better. The Great Leap had ravaged the countryside, his band having to bury one of their own almost every day.</p><p>Shuffling into the dusty temple, the Panda King hefted his rucksack off. Behind him, his best men followed suit as their families hungrily watched. "We recovered what we could, but it is only enough for another few days."</p><p>There were many disheartened groans and cries, but he had grown numb to it. After each friend he buried, it became a little easier to accept their grim fate. Even with his dark outlook, the Panda King still went out to do what he could. Handing cabbages and raw rice packets out, the giant Panda finally gave his aching feet a rest as he sat on the floor. The spacious temple was alight with flickering orange flames, his fellow rebels cooking their meager meals.</p><p>"Are you sure you cannot find more?" A familiar voice whispered next to him.</p><p>"Not with what little fighters we have left." The Panda King sighed. "We lost Sheng, Jin and Lao."</p><p>There was silence from the second panda, a small and wriggly cub in her arms. Taking a seat next to her brother, she held the cub out for him. She knew he'd accept, his daughter was one of the few people that could get a smile from him these days. "...you're heading back out tomorrow, aren't you?"</p><p>The Panda King gave a heavy sigh, his infant daughter snuggling up to his chest. "...what choice do I have Cixi? If I do not, we starve. If I do, I risk not only my own life, but those of my friends."</p><p>"Friends that chose to follow you no matter what." Cixi countered. "They knew the risks and accepted them, everyone here did. Of course it's a hard life we live, but none of us here would consider going back."</p><p>The Panda King remained silent, eyes on his daughter. She made a few babbling sounds, earning a soft smile from the older panda. Kissing her forehead, the Panda King settled into his seat as Jingwei approached with a small bowl of soup. Even with his rumbling stomach, the Panda King did not hesitate to feed his daughter first.</p><p>"...I will head alone tomorrow morning." The older panda firmly spoke. "There is food in bloom this time of year and the others need to rest."</p><p>He could see the disapproval of the plan in his sister's eyes, but Cixi sighed. "Be back before night this time at least."</p><p>When her brother nodded, Cixi got back up to tend to the others. Glancing at his daughter, the Panda King smiled as she began dozing off. Reaching into his worn coat, he retrieved the note he found and reread it. With what little hope he had left, he prayed that there could be a future that was good.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>In his youth, the Panda King would not have been slowed by the trek. It had been a perilous journey from the mountainside to the desert, his bamboo staff keeping him balanced as his knees shook. His old strength faded with each day, the bear on the verge of collapse as he painfully made his way through the arid wasteland.</p><p>In the evening sun, he saw a dark green glimmer in the distance. His stumbling steps brought him closer, but his blurry vision made it no clearer what he was approaching. He heard voices as his vision blacked out.</p><p>When he came to, he was staring at the roof of a tent. Achingly sitting up, the Panda King saw the canteen that was next to him. He didn't care if it belonged to anyone else, all he knew was that he needed to slake his raging thirst as he drained the bottle in one gulp.</p><p>"Good to see you are up."</p><p>The icy voice drew his gaze to the haggard old owl that was outside the field tent, its mere presence more chilling then the icy winds of the Kunlun winter. A single red eye bore into him, the Panda King swallowing as the bird shuffled closer. "Who are you?"</p><p>"Perhaps a friend to you, maybe your enemy." The owl coldly answered. "Regardless, I am here with a business proposal."</p><p>The Panda King's brow furrowed. "Do you think honor can be bought?"</p><p>"No, but foodstuffs and supplies to feed a starving family can." The bird's eye glimmered with satisfaction at the twitch from the bear. "How much longer can you and your fellows survive? How much longer can you all go before you regress to true savagrey?"</p><p>Burying his face in a palm, the panda dragged his hand down his face. He had sworn to never stoop to the same level the nobles and soldiers have, but what choice did he have now?</p><p>"My offer is simple. I will provide you with sufficient supplies for several years. In return, there is a task I need and I know you are the man for the job." The owl leaned closer, that scarlet eye burrowing deeper into the panda's mind. "I was impressed with your work in Golmund."</p><p>"...how do you know?"</p><p>"The same way I know it was you who ravaged the PLA in Shannxi, the same way I know you led your band to that old temple." The bird gave an icy smile. "And I would consider it a waste if skills like yours were lost."</p><p>This was it, wasn't it? This was the crossroad of his life. To refuse was to subject his own to starvation. To accept was to be bound to the will of this owl that radiated a freezing darkness the Panda King had never seen in another. It was like shadows bent to its will, shrouding him in an air of dread. There could be nothing good to come from working with him.</p><p>Yet he thought of his daughter, his sister, his brothers in arms and how much they longed for nothing more then a filling meal.</p><p>"...what do you ask of me?" The Panda King asked in a solemn tone.</p><p>The owl smiled. "For now, nothing. But I will come to you in time to collect the debt you will owe me."</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>After researching up on Chinese history in this era, I concluded that Panda King would be a freedom fighter of sorts.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. San Francisco, USA, 1964</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Subtlty had never been Muggshot's strong suit. He was a hulking beast of muscle, his voice roaring and his guns blazing. So for the bulldog to need to try and keep quiet as he waited was a whole new experience that required far more focus and effort then he thought.</p><p>"Ugh, the Hell's taking 'im so long?" Taking the custom machine gun off his back, Muggshot contented himself with polishing it for the third time this hour. The steely glint from the moonlight gave the dog a cruel smile, all manners of late night traffic echoing behind him. As tempting as it would be to add the cracking of guns to the mix, he had to keep it quiet. The local cops were onto him and he didn't have enough to bribe their silence.</p><p>The meeting spot the mystery call gave him oozed with organized crime. The dockyards had always been a site of crime from drug and weapon traficking to slipping in and out of countries or disposing of bodies. Few knew the sheer amount of crimes one could get away with here better then Muggshot, he had run security for quite a few rackets up and down the West Coast. But as his methods grew more and more brutal, more cops would try and track him down. And with more cops on his tail, less and less crime lords were willing to hire him.</p><p>An approaching figure got his attention, the bulldog adjusting his seat so they could see the gigantic gun he was cleaning. "Hit the road Jack."</p><p>The stranger pulled down their hood, revealing himself to be a panda that was almost as large as the bulldog. "If I were to do so, you would find yourself without a job."</p><p>Muggshot raised an eyebrow at that as he slung his machine gun over his back. "You the guy?"</p><p>"More or less." The bear answered. "He was unable to make it here in person, but I will be able to get you in touch with him by telephone."</p><p>Normally, Muggshot never had the patience for talking business over the phone. He liked working in person, his size helped intimidate clients and employers alike into agreeing with him. But with his arrest warrants from San Francisco to Juarez, the bulldog was in no real position to turn down jobs.</p><p>"...ahhhh, alright."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Finding a phone was surprisingly difficult. Then again, most phone booths were not made with gigantic people like the bulldog and bear in mind. The two eventually settled on using a phone in some restaurant in Chinatown, the panda politely negotiating their way into a cramped office.</p><p>"This better be good." Muggshot growled as he struggled to fit in the couch.</p><p>The panda was silent as he dialed a number. Putting the phone to his ear, the bear's face became gaunt as he spoke. "It is me....yes, I found him...I would say so, yes...very well."</p><p>The panda held the phone out to the bulldog, Muggshot accepting. "You the man in charge?"</p><p>"Indeed I am." That voice made Muggshot pause. It put a chill in his bones and for a moment, he was once again the runt he was all those years ago. "I have a business proposal for you."</p><p>Clearing his throat, Muggshot fiddled with his moustache. "What kinda show you running?"</p><p>"One that needs a man of your talents." The voice replied. "Your strength and mindset are quite useful traits for a job I need done and I assure you that you will be well compensated for your time."</p><p>As if on cue, the panda opened the bag he had slung over his shoulder to reveal rolls of cash. There was a lot of money in the bag, Muggshot suddenly riveted with this discussion. "My assosciate has an advance payment for this job. Complete it and you will be paid enough to carve out your own corner in the underworld."</p><p>The thought of being the shot-caller instead of the hired muscle was far too tempting for the bulldog. "Well...sounds like a solid deal. What's the gig?"</p><p>"There's someone I need found by any means." That music to Muggshot's ears. "Find his location with any method you deem fit and you will be rewarded."</p><p>"Consider me sold." Muggshot chuckled. "So, who's the chump I gotta sniff out?"</p><p>"My assosciate will be assisting you. He will inform you of all the details."</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Who's up for a dysfunctional buddy road trip~?</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. Carazo, Nicaragua, 1965</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>There was a heavy air tonight. The bones and feathers hanging from the gutter were rattling in the still air, Samedi hissing. The golden snake was coiled around the tree outside the rundown cabin, drawing their master from her den of magic. It didn't take long for clawed hands to gently carress the devil-snake, Samedi's hisses quieting down.</p><p>Miz Ruby frowned at her pet. The snake was a Familiar of sorts for her, helping her ply her mystic trade. They were sensitive to the magical fields of the world, Miz Ruby finding the snake to be quite restless these days. Letting them slither around her neck and shoulders, the alligator returned to her cabin as Samedi hissed.</p><p>"Very strange times indeed." Miz Ruby mused as she continued to read her book. It detailed strange surges of sorcery in the world, a constant occurance that happened once every 30 years or so. Her grandmother recalled the last one that happened over 40 years ago, the old alligator describing it as a wailing and screaming in the Other Side.</p><p>Flipping through the hefty tome, Miz Ruby had found a pattern in the occurances. The world map on her wall was decorated with pins and thread, forming a web across all four corners of the earth as a single strand tailed back and forth. Her grandmother spoke of the last one happening in the 1920's, the alligator finding a wolf witch's account from that time in Germany. Before that, it was in the 1880's in England according to a spider. And before that, the American wild west by the reckoning of an escaped slave.</p><p>There was something connecting these events together, she was certain of it.</p><p>Fishing her scrimshawed bones from their pouch, the alligator rattled them in her hands before letting them scatter along the table. Their positions along the carving of the Baron's mark told her of a great many things, eyes widening.</p><p>"Oh my..." Consulting her book, Miz Ruby ran the numbers in her mind again and again, the same answer appearing every time. Watching her snake slither onto the table, the alligator smiled as she scratched its chin. "Well now cher, I think we'll be having some company tomorrow."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Arranging the candles and offerings was a seemingly trivial matter, but their configuration was essential. The rum bottle and cigar box were carefully placed atop the carved table, an icy chill coiling through the air. In the glow of candles and the moon, Miz Ruby began chanting in her native tongue.</p><p>Every syllable made the air turn colder, Samedi hissing. The alligator could feel the roiling energy of the Other Side, an unseen leviathan of the depths beginning to surface. The feeling was equally electrifying and terrifying, Miz Ruby watching her snake coil in the middle of the table.</p><p>A pale red glow emmanated from the golden snake as the candles went out, Samedi rearing its head. When it opened its mouth though, it was not a bestial hiss, but a voice as cold as the grave. "Who dares to speak to me?"</p><p>"Just an interested gal is all." The alligator answered.</p><p>The voice channelled through the snake chuckled. "Impressive that you found me."</p><p>"Nothing too complex cher, not very hard when you've vodou." Miz Ruby replied. "Now who are you? You're not Baron Samedi."</p><p>"Of your Barons, I think I am more aligned to Kriminel." The voice answered. "But your Baron Samedi is one of the interest parties in me for having defied him." The vodou priestess' eyes widened at that as the voice continued. "You seem to command many of nature's powers."</p><p>"A deal of sorts with the Baron." Miz Ruby answered. "He lets me bring back the dead who crossed him."</p><p>"How interesting..." The voice gave another dark laugh. "...I think I could use your help."</p><p>"Oh?" The alligator's long jaws curled into a vicious smile.</p><p>"I have a project in the works, one that needs a magic touch." Samedi dipped its tail into the inkwell before drawing a X on the map, right around Siberia. "And I assure you, such assistance would not go unrewarded."</p><p>Miz Ruby's smile deepened. This was shaping to be an interesting night, one of great reward for her efforts.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Remember that giant snake in Sly 1? The Lair of the Beast level?</p><p>I feel like not enough people are talking about it</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. Volgograd, U.S.S.R., 1967</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>He felt his life waning. Age's grip on his withered soul was tightening, threatening to drag him to the awaiting darkness. He could feel his bones creaking and his muscles aching, his body in perpetual revolt. Shuffling through a corridor in his lair, he allowed himself to dwell on the wretched circumstances he had fallen to.</p><p>
  <em>With every drop of your blood, new life shall sustain me.</em>
</p><p>Otto von Cooper's death had been satisfying, a fitting end to the Red Baron's most likely successor. Driving his iron claws through Otto's neck was the last time he felt remotely happy, the blood he drained sustaining him a little longer. But the blood ran out over a decade ago, time beginning to reel him in.</p><p>
  <em>With every life I take, the years they have lost shall become mine.</em>
</p><p>He stiffly entered the lab, all manners of arcane and terrifying machinery arranged. He should've began this project long ago, before age took away his finesse and steady grip. Even using a keyboard or dialing a number was becoming difficult with how bad his shaking had gotten. But he would not let it end there, not until he finally erase the Cooper line.</p><p>
  <em>With every death I deal, I shall become eternal.</em>
</p><p>All of them would pay. He still recalled the day the first of their kind took what he struggled so hard to achieve. How the son of his true nemesis tried to convince him that their clan would no longer be honorless. He still felt the satisfying thrill as each Cooper met his talons, his scarlet eye gazing at the engraved metal panels and machine parts that were awaiting assembly. Scanning the room, his face soured when his gaze fell upon that haunting piece of art, the reminder of why he refused to yield.</p><p>"For escaping my retribution, you condemned your descendants." He growled at the stone carving he kept in the lab, the dominant centerpiece. It depicted a raccoon, the carving style that of the ancient Egyptians. "All of them shall pay for your sins."</p><p>He would not go quietly into that goodnight, he would rage against the dying of the light.</p><p> </p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. Victoria, Canada, 1975</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Kinkaid, Jamison." The walrus in question cracked an eye open from his cell's bunk. "You've got a visitor."</p><p>Stiffly getting to his feet, Jim McSweeney took time to stretch. While still in the turtleneck and duck logger pants from his incognito life, he was expecting to be in orange coveralls soon. With his collection in evidence, it wouldn't be long for the cops to figure out who he really was.</p><p>Strolling down the hall with two guards escorting him, McSweeney was guided into the visitor's room. While the wolf and beaver guards remained near the door, it wouldn't be too hard for them to incapacitate him if he gave them reason to. The door on the other side of the room opened, McSweeney's eyes widening at the sight.</p><p>"Jimbo, good to see you again." The bellbottom pants and tassled flower power jacket were brightly colored, a clash to the visitor's usual style. The same could be said for the ridiculous perm and handlebar moustache, but they all served their purpose. "Been too long."</p><p>The walrus cracked a grin as he returned the hug the raccoon offered. "That it has been Conner. Gotta say, I was right."</p><p>"Bout what?" The disguised Cooper asked as he took a seat.</p><p>"That a moustache would suit you." McSweeney chuckled as he stroked his own thick facial hair.</p><p>"Well Daisy loves it, says it gives me a more rugged look." Conner smirked. "So, how'd you of all people end up here?"</p><p>Any humor in the walrus' face faded in an instant. Due to McSweeney's usual jovial outlook, that was enough to dredge a sense of worry in Conner's gut. "Neighbor called the cops due to me getting into a tussle with some uninvited guests. When they came in though, one of them recognized that Qing Dynasty vase on my fireplace mantel."</p><p>"...that sounds problematic."</p><p>"Doing time in the slammer isn't what's worrying buddy." McSweeney's voice dropped to a quieter tone, just out of the guards' hearing. "The two guys who came in wanted to know where you are."</p><p>Worry mutated into the beginnings of fear, one that Conner had started feeling ever since he met Daisy. "...who were they?"</p><p>"Didn't recognize the panda, but his buddy was this big dog. That one who's been in the news lately. Didn't tell them anything, but the panda managed to take ransack the place while his friend tried to persuade me to spill the beans." McSweeney grunted as he rubbed his aching back. He hadn't taken a beating like that since the Brisbane heist.</p><p>"Any idea what they made off with?" Conner asked in a low tone.</p><p>"Nothing with your address or anything fortunately." McSweeney answered. "Maybe some loot, but I'll live."</p><p>Conner began stewing, wondering what some hired muscle from Utah wanted with him. As far as he could recall, neither party crossed each other until the brute broke into McSweeney's house. "Any idea what their beef is with me?"</p><p>"None." The walrus shrugged. "...m'sorry I called you back out here."</p><p>"None of that." The raccoon waved his hand. "I'd probably do the same."</p><p>That brought back McSweeney's smile. Silent moments passed before he spoke again. "How's the missus?"</p><p>"She's doing well. Still gets a little nervous when I teach Sly gymnastics." That dreamy smile Conner had was a familiar sight to McSweeney. He'd seen it quite a few times before the gang retired. "She's been teaching him a few tricks of her own too. At this rate, he'll have her roundhouse kick and my light toes."</p><p>The walrus gave a rumbling chuckle. "He must be a menace on the playground."</p><p>"You have no idea how many parent-teacher conferences I've been to thanks to him climbing the flagpole or jumping out of trees." Conner laughed. "He's getting good at free-running and it's starting to grate on the teachers."</p><p>The two old friends conversed for awhile, McSweeney giving his thundering laugh at the near infinite stories Conner told him of his son. He was just as hyper and excitable as any other kid, but Sly kept climbing everything like a spider. That led to McSweeney doubling over once or twice, the mood tempered by the guards that were approaching.</p><p>"Time's up boys." The wolf announced. "Better start wrapping up."</p><p>Noting the two guards, Conner gestured to the room. "I might be able to help you get an early parole Jimbo."</p><p>Picking up the subtext, McSweeney shook his head. "Nah, I'll be fine. Besides, I reckon you'll have your hands full with Sly clambering up and down the gym rafters."</p><p>Chuckling at the memory, the Cooper looked up at his old friend. The two hugged, Conner's voice solemn. "I'll see you when you get out Jamison."</p><p>"Bring the family when you do, I'd love to catch up with them too." McSweeney replied. The two parted, the guards politely escorting the walrus back to his cell.</p><p>Exiting the prison, Conner's thoughts swirled like a tornado of questions. He didn't know why someone like Muggshot would be looking for him, but it was worrying. Especially since they knew to track down McSweeney. Rounding the corner and heading into an alley, Conner shed his wig and jacket, tossing them into a dumpster. He kept the pants though as Daisy had a point; they looked good on him.</p><p>Zigzagging through the busy streets, Conner took an hour to get back to his car. He could tell that no one was tailing him anymore, the Cooper driving off. While he reassured himself that there was no way anyone knew where him and his family had resettled, the connotations behind McSweeney's home invasion rattled him. No one was supposed to know where he was either.</p><p>Parking outside a hotel, Conner immediately went for the payphone and dialed a number he never thought he'd use again. Hearing the phone ring, the raccoon took a deep breath to ease his nerves. Their parting words were far from pleasant, but under the circumstances...</p><p>Hearing the dial tone, Conner hung up. Most likely the good doctor had simply gone to ground, but the feeling of dread did not ease it's grip on him.</p><p><em>"Be silent when the wind howls on a peaceful night."</em> he heard his mother say as she tucked him in every night when he was a child. <em>"Or else he will find you."</em></p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Okay, I'll confess. I headcanon Conner totally digs 70s fashion. He has the Village People on vinyl and everything</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. Khabarovsk, U.S.S.R., 1976</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Recall how I tagged this piece as having Body Horror?</p><p>Do not read if squemish, there's going to be a lot of horrifying sci-fi magic in this chapter</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>"Are you certain you know--"</p><p>"Yes, I know what I'm doing." Miz Ruby snapped.</p><p>"Well, forgive me for doubting someone who's qualified in shaking old bones and talking to a Primal snake." The annoying frog spat once again. It wouldn't be hard for her to crush him with her tail, there was no jury that would convict her.</p><p>Carefully lowering the soldering iron, Miz Ruby meticulously examined her work. This was not a job she could afford any mistake, even the slightest margin of error could lead to disaster considering the forces she and Raleigh were attempting to control. Finding no flaw in the mystic mark, the alligator carefully laid the metal panel down with the other components.</p><p>"...we're ready."</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He drifted in the nothingness between everything. He wasn't sure what he was now, but he knew what he had to be. He couldn't move, but a deep determination to resist and bite had welled up in him.</p><p>Nothing had stopped him before. He wouldn't let anything stop him now.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>The thawing had taken the exact amount of time that Raleigh predicted. Opening the large metal pod, the frog watched as Miz Ruby reached inside to remove the heart that was inside. They were taking a great risk, but it was one that their employer insisted on.</p><p>Carrying the heart to the workbench, Miz Ruby carefully placed it in the middle of the magic circle she had carved into the wood. Raising her hands, the alligator poured her terrible and ancient powers into the mark. A ghoulish green glow illuminated the room, the heart beginning to levitate. Around the organ, the metal panels began to float as well.</p><p>Watching the scene unfold, Raleigh held his breath. This was beyond anything he had even attempted, he was relying solely on the schematics his employer drew up and on the magic of some backwater witch. While he disdained her methods, the frog kept quiet. They were far too close to the margin of error.</p><p>Slowly, the metal panels began to wrap around the heart. As each iron component closed around the organ, a flash of green flared up. Once the heart was wrapped in metal, it drifted back onto the workbench.</p><p>And it began to beat again.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He felt a twitch in his toes. It was in tune with a heartbeat, more sensation trickling through his form as the beating continued. Even if it was barely more then a millimeter, he could move again. Turning his focus inward, he concentrated on the sensation of feeling.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"It worked." Raleigh breathed.</p><p>"This part did at least." It was rather unnerving to be holding the still beating heart. Even if hearbeats were signs of life, all Miz Ruby felt was the chill of death in her hands. "You sure about your work?"</p><p>"I've used alloys I never knew existed in accordance to blueprints drawn up by someone who seeks to play god." The frog spat. "I am certain of nothing."</p><p>Taking the heart, Raleigh hopped up to its destination. The awaiting iron body had an open chest cavity, heavy duty conduit pipes and corrugated hoses arranged like a den of snakes. Grabbing the corresponding tubes, Raleigh began fastening their connectors up to the heart.</p><p>A thick 'shlork' echoed from the body, clear tubes going black as a vile slurry began circulating throughout it's metal form. Backing away, Raleigh and Miz Ruby could do nothing more then wait.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>He could feel more of his form again, more sensations crawling throughout him. He could feel pinpricks of pain rolling their way towards his head, the agony only intensifying. It was hellishly painful, but he kept clawing his way out. The slightest brighter shades were beginning to appear in his vision, spurring him on.</p><p>As the pain grew, he began to see again.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>There was a slight flicker in the machine's eyes. They began to dimly blink, an electric crackling sounding in the air. Miz Ruby's tail curled around her as Samedi hissed, the eyes blinking on and off more and more.</p><p>In moments, they remained illuminated with a baleful golden glow. There was a nightmarish shriek from the incomplete jaw, the body slightly shifting. While covering his ear holes, Raleigh could still see the heart beating away in it's new body. It was a revoltingly fascinating sight to behold.</p><p>As his vision sharpened, he realized why it hurt so much. His chest panels were open, only his heart in place. With what little neck mobility he had, he looked to the sides to see his legs and wings were not completed yet either. A bare framework of iron beams were outstretched from his shoulders, wires and tubes criss-crossing the skeletal wings.</p><p>His gaze settled on the frog and alligator before him, his new body still towering over them. Even with only a few scraps of jagged metal where his beak would eventually be, a voice crackled out. It was the decay and darkness of one who had not been dragged to the pit, but had jumped inside and clawed their way out.<strong> [You...have done...well.]</strong></p><p>While the two seemed to preen at the rare praise from the owl, they were both truthfully frightened by him. They had twisted nature, science and sorcery far beyond anything ever attempted before, the result a truly wretched reflection of what was in his heart.</p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>This is how I think Clockwerk began his cybernetic enhancements. I know Thieves In Time had robo-Clockwerk as an Easter egg, but i do not acknowledge most of that game's canon at ALL</p><p>I do believe he used an alternative method for life extension (I'll be elaborating on that in future chapters) but turned to replacing his body with machinery only recently As the technology became available</p><p>Oh, and this is not the end of Clockwerk's revolting anatomy. There's more of his body horror coming up~</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. Khabarovsk, U.S.S.R., 1977</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>More body horror in this one</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><br/>"I've gotta say doc, you're file don't lie." Muggshot slapped the thick folder against the table. "You sure did give me and the Chinaman quite the chase."</p><p>"Wasn't too hard with you ignoramuses." Dr M spat. Chained to his seat as he was, there really wasn't much else the mandrill could do aside from make himself as irritating as possible to his captors.</p><p>Muggshot meanwhile was still trying to process the doctor's sentence, trying to figure out what 'ignoramus' meant. The venom in the tone suggested it was insult, the bulldog settling for throwing another punch to Dr M's gut. The mandrill went careening back, chair and all with a pained grunt.</p><p>"I pulled that one like the rest. So either get with the program or I'll give yous internal bleeding." The canine growled.</p><p>"That sounds much better then listening to a rabid dog slobber all day." Dr M retorted.</p><p>Cracking his knuckles, Muggshot lumbered towards his captive. Like the others in the long trail of broken bones the enforcer and Panda King left in their wake over the last few years, he was going to have fun with extracting information by any means.</p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>Hearing the pained screams and grunts from down the hall, the Panda King frowned. With McSweeney in a supermax prison, this Dr M became their sole lead on the Coopers. Unlike the other persons of interest in the hunt, the mandrill was proving to be quite uncooperative. Combining Muggshot's fists and the Panda King's persuasive skills had gotten them results before, but Dr M was determined to end their winning streak.</p><p>Rising from his lotus position, the bear began making his way through the stronghold. It was a former Red Army base, one of the more fortified fortresses along the Chinese border. How his employer got his claws on it was a mystery, but the Panda King could guess. It was probably similar to how he was able to arrange the supply runs for the Panda King's warband.</p><p>Descending an elevator that led deeper into the earth, the Panda King let his mind wander. He had no intention of staying with his co-workers once his contract was completed, a dark shadow had befallen them all. But no matter how dark they became, they would always pale in comparison to the mastermind that was awaiting the panda at the bottom of the elevator.</p><p>The door slid open, the Panda King striding through the long hallway. Bare concrete made up the floor, pale white lights illuminating the cinderblock walls. The steel door at the end was difficult to open, the bear grunting with effort as he slid it open.</p><p><strong>[Has he spoken?]</strong> That voice. That cold and empty voice.</p><p>"No." The Panda King began. "Howev--"</p><p><strong>[Then get back to work.]</strong> A glimmer of golden light glowed in the distance, showers of sparks accompanying the reek of scorched metal.</p><p>"Our usual methods of interrogation have failed." The Panda King continued in a firm tone, doing his best to stop his skin from crawling at the nightmarish sight before him. "So long as he believes that we will kill him even if he cooperates, he has no incentive to aid us."</p><p>A contemplative hum echoed throughout the large room.<strong> [Then what would you suggest? What do we have that he covets?]</strong></p><p>"There was something on McSweeney." The bear answered. "A particularly strange tattoo on his palm. It stuck out due to the rest of his tattoos being storms, waves, and phrases."</p><p>The sparks stopped showering, metal scratching along the stone floor. Noting the shift in posture, the Panda King quickly rummaged through his pocket to produce a Polaroid and held it out to his employer. Bloodstained talons that had taken so many lives were surprisingly gentle as they took the photo, golden eyes scanning the picture of McSweeney's tattoo.</p><p><strong>[How interesting.]</strong> That twisted laugh rumbled out like the screams of forsaken souls. <strong>[I believe it is time I had a chat with our guest.]</strong></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>For a moment, Dr M got a respite from the beating. A ringing phone on the wall drew the bulldog away as he answered, the simian taking this time to assess the situation. While restrained, he had learnt quite a few escape techniques from his Cooper gang days. Running his fingers along the shackles and their locks, Dr M allowed a grin to form. He just needed a needle or a pin...</p><p>"Well, yous screwed now." Muggshot hefted the mandril over one shoulder with ease. "The boss wants to see you."</p><p>Craning his neck, Dr M studied the hallway he was being carried down. While blindfolded when he was initially brought in, he had to memorize some part of this facility's layout if he was to escape. Frowning, the doctor noted how repettitive and bland the design was. All bare concrete and cinderblock with caged lights.</p><p>Closing the cage elevator, Muggshot pulled the lever to the lowest number. As they began to descend, the canine hoped that his prisoner had not noticed him fiddling with his moustache. The air began to cool, the elevator smoothly going down a natural shaft in the earth, the smooth and uniform bricks giving way to jagged and coarse rock. There was a slight clatter once they reached the heavy steel door, the Panda King holding it open.</p><p>Depositing Dr M in the room, the Panda King and Muggshot vacated the room, its heavy locks clicking shut. Twisting his head around, the mandril recognized the bizzare array of lab equipment. Surgical tools and mechanical hardware was neatly sorted on shelves, spools of wire and vats of a strange black ooze stacked in one corner. Propane tanks were opposite of the bookshelf, leatherbound tomes covered in dust lining the shelves.</p><p>
  <strong>[Tell me doctor, how much of this country's history do you know?]</strong>
</p><p>That voice sent ice down Dr M's spine. It drew his gaze to the darkened expanse in the room, a vague outline visible in the deep shadows. There were brief flashes of light as sparks sprayed along the floor, a welder crackling. The blinking lights illuminated a strange silhouette, it's back seemingly to him.</p><p>"...n-not much." The simian answered. "Then again, your country doesn't really let people know the full story."</p><p>A cruel and humorless laugh rolled from the darkness. <strong>[A rather welcome feature if you ask me.]</strong> The welding stopped, leaving nothing but a black void.<strong> [Not long after Lenin died, things became quite unstable. Quite a few men were seeking to secure the empty throne for themselves through any means. One of them hired a mongrel named Yezhov who in turn came to me for my service.]</strong></p><p>Dr M swallowed. He had heard rumors of the Great Purge, but everyone who tried to confirm it tended to disappear.</p><p><strong>[I am no patriot, I have no loyalty to the many regimes that have risen and fallen over the ages.]</strong> The shrill sound of metal scraping rock rattled Dr M's brain. <strong>[But I must say, I did enjoy my work under Yezhov. But once the suspect list was cleared, that left Yezhov who knew too much. And so his superiors ordered me to execute him because they knew that I would not hesitate.]</strong></p><p>A searing pair of golden eyes appeared, something heavy dragging its hulking form towards the simian. <strong>[Millions were arrested and either tortured, executed, or sent to the gulags and I had a personal hand in the affair. Me, a man who owed nothing to the regime I helped enforce, but simply wanted to do the job.]</strong></p><p>"Why do you even want Cooper?" Dr M spat. "That is all your cohorts have asked for but like I told them, I do not know where he is!"</p><p>The scraping stopped, those eyes unblinking as they stared at him. <strong>[I believe that you do, or at least know where to start, or just even have something to help narrow down his location. But of course, what incentive do you have if you divulge this information? After visiting your old friend McSweeney, I think I have something you want.]</strong></p><p>While him and McSweeney were not the closest of friends, Dr M's face screwed up in rage at the prospect. However, another part of him had latched onto the fact that this shadow had something he wanted. There was only thing he wanted, but maybe, just maybe...</p><p><strong>[He had a tattoo of a building on his palm. A rather strange idea, wouldn't you say? Almost as if there's something in that building that he hid there.]</strong> That got the mandril's attention. It'd make sense that Conner would have a backup plan if something happened to him, some way for his son to find the family's greatest treasure<strong>. [I will give you a photo of the tattoo, but in return you will tell me where Conner Cooper is.]</strong></p><p>"How many times must I tell you, I DON'T KNOW WHERE HE IS!" Dr M retorted. A demonic growl echoed from the darkness, the sound of metal scraping along the floor growing louder.</p><p>The nightmarish sight would come to haunt Dr M for the rest of his life. The machine bird that emerged from the shadows towered above him. Jagged steel feathers were attached to iron bones, leaving very little to the imagination of their workings. The chest was open, giving him an undisturbed look at the beating machine heart, convulsing iron stomach, and mechanical lungs at work. All manners of vile and sludgy sounds echoed from the open chest cavity, but that paled in comparison to the face that Dr M was staring at.</p><p>It was like an owl's skull was cast in steel, pistons and gyros replacing tendons and muscle. Just behind the eye sockets, a ghoulish green glow emanated from the glass sphere where a brain with wires lodged into it was in place. And glaring into his very soul were twin glowing gold eyes that were mounted in the sockets, the jagged iron beak curled into a baleful snarl as the demon glared with the intensity of the nine circles of Hell.</p><p><strong>[I will only ask you once. If you do not cooperate, I will introduce you to shades of brutality and suffering the likes of which the sins of empires are built upon.]</strong> The owl leaned closer, the tip of its beak mere inches from the simian's face. Scorching steam and fiery sparks were exhaled from the nostrils with each breath, a thick and vile ebon slime dripping from the incomplete jaws. <strong>[Where is Conner Cooper?]</strong></p><p> </p><hr/><p> </p><p>"This could work." Miz Ruby mused as she studied the photo; the mandril Muggshot and the Panda King brought in was smiling as he sat next to a raccoon with a golden cane. "Even if they're on the outs, the residue from their past will still be just as potent."</p><p>The others watched the alligator wrap the photo around a needle, the Panda King giving a pondering hum. "This Cooper has evaded our efforts for so long. What kind of man is he to have slipped past us?"</p><p><strong>[It is the way of the Cooper to hide in the shadows.]</strong> The demonic machine snorted. <strong>[To effortlessly weave between the worlds of light and dark, slipping through the fingers of a great many foes on all sides.]</strong></p><p>Everyone except Miz Ruby fell silent at that. The alligator gave a flick of her wrist, the needle levitating above the world map on the table. The mark of Baron Samedei began to glow red, the candles surrounding the map flickering.</p><p>"...what's it doing?" Muggshot piped up, the needle pointing downwards as it swayed.</p><p>"Looking." The voodou priestess snapped. "Now can it before I make you a pin cushion."</p><p>The bulldog muttered a great many curses under his breath, but silence descended upon the room as the needle lowered itself on the map. It's point was on the Pacific seaboard of America, Raleigh leaning closer from his perch atop Muggshot's shoulder to note exactly where the needle pointed to.</p><p><strong>[Ready your ship Walter.]</strong> The iron beak curled into a vicious smile. <strong>[I will be along shortly.]</strong></p><p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>I must say, I loved writing Clockwerk's dialog in this one</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
</body>
</html>